Safe Haven
by Ice-chan Queen of Soy
Summary: When Jackie experiences a loss, he is both surprised and delighted to find comfort in confiding to a certain ex-thief...


"Safe Haven"  
  
by Ice-chan  
  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I wish I did, but as luck may have it I don't. They belong to Kids WB and the real Jackie Chan. Boo-hoo.  
  
-~-~-  
  
In all my years of traveling, I have found that there is nothing like strolling down the semi-deserted streets of New York on a Sunday morning. Normally, the people of New York were always bustling about, and you could feel the stress of rush hour even if you weren't from the "concrete jungle," as my niece has dubbed it. I should know, seeing that my real home is in San Francisco. But I have been here many times, and it has definitely made my top ten list.  
  
I'm here today because I am supposed to meet an old college friend of mine who now lives here. Originally, the plan was for Casey and I to meet in San Francisco, but then her little sister fell ill, so she had to stay here. Now we are supposed to meet at a Starbucks on the corner of 1st Avenue and East 85th street. Then I would stay at a hotel close by her apartment.  
  
I said Casey was a college friend, but...well, she's a little more than that. We are actually *best* friends, after since our first year at Berkley University. But then we had lost touch for a while...I went deeper into archeology, and she had her own goals. For about three years we did not speak to each other, and then bam! we found ourselves on the same plane to Ireland, which was actually not long before Jade came to live with Uncle and me. I was continuing my archeology there of course, and she was visiting her family. Since then we've been keeping ourselves up-to-date with e-mail.  
  
She has wanted to see me for the longest time, but I couldn't very well do that; my hands were full with work. But now that Shendu and the Dark Hand's plan to release the Demon Portals has been vanquished, I have finally found the time to visit. And, boy, am I excited! She told me that she has changed in appearance since we've met on that flight to Ireland; her red hair was now short, she tells me, and she wears green contact lenses. Personally, I don't know why any one would want to change themselves so drastically, but then Casey had rather eccentric tastes. I told her that I didn't look at all different.  
  
I have to admit, I am a little disappointed that Jade could not meet Casey: she was away on a three-day class trip to Nevada. I think she would have liked Casey a lot, and vice versa. But I'm guessing this won't be the last time I see Casey, and I'm sure that she and Jade will meet eventually.  
  
Now I'm approaching the Starbucks, and I have to say I'm blown away by it. No wonder Casey wanted to meet here! It wasn't just a Starbucks - it was a *real* cafe, with outdoor tables; the type you would find in Spain. I go inside and order a mocha frappachino and a black and white cookie. After spending a few moments looking for her, I decide to sit outside and wait.  
  
It's gorgeous out; the sun is shining, but not enough to need sunglasses, and the breeze is light, comforting -- a typical spring day, and yet it is winter -- I'm not even wearing a coat! It feels like a day in which nothing can go wrong. It was quite relaxing. I sit there for a while, thinking about how great it is to finally see one of my best friends again. I check my watch and I see that it is nine-thirty. Okay, so there's a small problem: she is a half hour late. This is quite common, actually: one of Casey's faults was that she is *always* at least twenty minutes late. I don't know why, but that's how she is.  
  
But now a half hour was turning into forty minutes, to an hour, to ninety minutes, to two hours. This is getting out of hand. Why on earth would she be so late? This isn't like her...I have a bad feeling. I dump the empty mocha frappachino cup in the trash, and after glancing around to make sure I wasn't mistaken, I walk off the cafe's platform and scurry to Casey's apartment. Let's see...if memory doesn't fail me, she lives at 2nd Avenue and 84th street. Not that far a walk; I reach her building in no time. Before I get the chance to buzz her apartment, a teenage girl is going out so she lets me in. After hiking up the stairs six floors because the elevator was out of order, I find myself staring at Casey's door a bit out of breath. I only knock the door once before it swings open.  
  
I come face to face with a man only about ten years older than me. Red hair, like Casey's. He looks at me sternly, and I feel very uncomfortable, like a timid schoolboy.  
  
"Who are you?" he asks me rather sharply in his Irish accent.  
  
"Jackie Chan." I hold out a hand to shake, but he doesn't accept it. I try again, "I'm also a friend of Casey's. We were supposed to meet--wait, do I have the wrong apartment? I am sorry to waste your time, sometimes my memory is a little off." I grin sheepishly, scratching the back of my head.  
  
Instantly, his face softens. I think it's safe to say I'm very surprised, and confused. "Oh, you're a friend of Casey's?" he asks me. Then he pushes the door open wider. "Come in, come in."  
  
I nod to him amicably, embarrassed over what I had said, as I enter the apartment. It's surprisingly small: the dinning table is to your left as soon as you walk in, and a little farther to the right is the living room. But what's even more surprising is the group of people, all with red hair (it must run in the family) sitting on the two couches and on the single rocking chair. They stare at me curiously, but I detect a hint of sadness in their gazes.  
  
"Uh...my name is Jackie. I am a friend of Casey...is she here?" I ask, feeling self-conscious. I do not like it when people stare at me.  
  
They wave and say hello to me. Then the man who had let me in puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and leads me into the kitchen. Okay, now I'm really lost here, so I ask him to explain.  
  
He sighs tiredly, like an old, wise man. Then he looks at me straight in the eye and tells me something that makes my heart stop beating and my blood run cold.  
  
"Wha...what did you say?" I sputter. I will live to regret that, I know, but I could not perceive what he had just told me.  
  
Again he sighs, and repeats, this time turning away, "Casey's...well...she's passed. Last night, in her sleep."  
  
I just stared at him, lacking for words, lacking for thoughts. It's like my brain is frozen and everything is moving in slow motion. I think he is hugging me, but it's too hard to focus. Like reality just slapped me in the face and I was trying to retreat in a more comfortable area, but finding nothingness. Now, I am almost thirty years old now, and I have lost plenty of people in my life; but whenever I do, my reaction is still the same.  
  
He leads me into the living room and pulls up a chair for me. Once I am more conscious, I realise that what I really want is to be alone. And as I'm there longer, with everyone sitting there and no one speaking, the silence clanging against my mind, the need to be alone gets stronger. I feel like I'm suffocating in that invincible silence, and no one, not even me, is willing to break it.  
  
We sit there for a while, mourning, while other relatives come in. A little girl is trying to stifle sobs, to act brave, while her father strokes her hair. For some reason I think of Jade. I don't know why. And then all of sudden I really miss Jade. And I really wish someone were stroking my hair. This makes no sense, I realise that, but that is how I feel right now.  
  
I am about to get up, to actually leave, but I cannot move. My nerves feel like they are shot, so they won't obey my mind. I find that I am stuck here, forever. Hours seem to pass, but my eyes dart to the wall clock above the Television and I see it has only been minutes. It doesn't seem to make a difference, though…as if time has been rendered obsolete.  
  
Gradually, I become aware that I am shaking, and then I see that the AC is on. Someone gets up and shuts it off, but it does little good; I'm still shaking, and yet I am not even cold. And we're just *sitting* there.  
  
I do not know what happens next. The phone keeps ringing - family members - and a few people leave for a while to the funeral home. It is around four-thirty when that happens.  
  
I think my brain finally wakes up then and I leave, too, going my own way. From there I just…walk. I think I walk all around Manhattan, not knowing where to go, what to do…and even though I am alone now, I regret it deeply. All my thoughts center around the friend I had lost, and the pain is unbearable. I don't cry, though. I can't cry.  
  
Now I want to be with somebody - anybody! I walk for hours and hours, and soon, just when I come across West 34th street and Broadway, I realize that it is nighttime. And it is cold. And I don't have a jacket. I shiver, and then I enter this apartment building. The door is unlocked, so I just walk in and climb the stairs.  
  
And this is how I find myself facing Viper's apartment door at two o'clock in the morning.  
  
Okay, Jackie, you can ring the bell, wake her up, cause a lot of trouble, and live to regret this for the rest of your life; or you can just silently leave, call a cab and get back to the hotel.  
  
Stupid me, I ring the bell.  
  
No one is answering, so I push the limits and ring again. I hear the door unlock, and Viper peeps her head through the door. When she sees me, she gasps.  
  
"*Jackie*?" she says in disbelief. "What--is there something wrong? What are you doing here?"  
  
I avoid her eyes. "Can I come in?" I ask her, my voice surprisingly small.  
  
Viper opens her mouth, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she sighs and pushes the door open wider for me. As I walk in, I notice that she is wearing a pink bathrobe. Viper and pink just seem to work somehow. I wander into her grand living room, which is very spacious. I feel uncomfortable knowing that everything in this apartment was stolen.  
  
"Sit down," she tells me. I hesitate, but then I reluctantly ease myself onto the couch, which is very soft and leathery.  
  
She goes out into the kitchen, and soon she reenters with two mugs of coffee. Handing one mug to me, she sits down next to me. Holding my mug in front of me, I eye it suspiciously.  
  
Viper rolls her eyes. "No, it's not poisoned," she says, as if reading my thoughts. I can feel my face turning red.  
  
"So, what brings you to New York…at two in the morning?" she asks me, sipping her coffee.  
  
I sip mine, too. Dee café. That, or poison. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up…I just…needed a place to stay for a bit," I said weakly.  
  
Viper raises her eyebrow, setting her mug on the coffee table. "And you became homeless when?"  
  
"I had a bad day, okay?"  
  
She shrugs. "I think I had the right to ask, seeing as though you wake me up and ask to spend the night and you won't even tell me why."  
  
"I'm not spending the night," I say immediately. "I'm just...visiting."  
  
"Uh-huh. Right."  
  
We sat there for a while, and it was just like the silence with Casey's family. No. I was *not* about to let that happen here too. So I ask her, making conversation, "Steal anything lately?"  
  
Okay, so that was a rude question, and I can tell Viper is annoyed. "I'm *legit*. L-E-G-I-T."  
  
"I can spell, thank you."  
  
"So get it through your head: Viper plus Pink Puma incident equals legit!"  
  
I roll my eyes again. "Right, okay, I will remember that…though I never was good at math."  
  
"You know, you don't *have* to be here."  
  
I don't say anything. I'm afraid that if I do, it will be something stupid, and then she would kick me out. And I don't want to be alone anymore. Anything but that!  
  
Viper is silent too. After a while, she says quietly, "Want to talk about it?"  
  
"Not really," I reply, also quietly.  
  
And then, much to my surprise, I start talking -- so naturally, too. I tell her everything, from this -- or rather, yesterday -- morning until I found myself here. I think she's listening, but i cannot tell; I stare into what's left of my coffee, which is now cold. When I finish, I can't believe I just told her all that. It just came out so naturally, and to be honest, it felt good to get it all out. I look up at her finally, and I am half surprised to see concern molded into her face. This is a side of Viper I have never seen before.  
  
"I had no idea," she says, her voice emitting sympathy. She lays a hand on my shoulder, and then she pulls me into a hug. I am too tired to resist, nor do I want to. But that may be because this is the part where the sobs get caught in my throat. The last thing I want is for Viper to see me cry, so I stifle my sobs as best I can; but I am pretty sure she hears me.  
  
"I can't believe I am hugging a thief," I murmur.  
  
"Ex-thief," she corrects me, patting my back.  
  
She holds me for a long time, but then I also feel a strange reluctance to let go. Eventually we do part, but before we do I am sure to wipe away the tears. Not that she can't figure that out. But I for some reason don't want to take any chances. When we part, I look down at the floor and I see the lilac carpet. I'm feeling very embarrassed, and I think she does too.  
  
But despite the awkward moment, I feel compelled to continue, so I mutter, "I feel so numb."  
  
Viper sighs, "Yeah, I know. But it does go away, eventually."  
  
I look up at Viper in surprise. "You've been through this before?" For some reason I keep thinking that Viper has no one close to her; I suppose the fact that she was a thief had something to do with it.  
  
Viper picked up on this in no time, and she looked rather annoyed. "You know, not everyone hates me just because I'm a thief."  
  
"Ex-thief," I add, with a slight grin. She grins back.  
  
"You're not as dense as I thought you were, baby-face."  
  
Automatically, I act defensively. "What do you mean by that?!" And I can tell she's taken aback.  
  
"I was just kidding," she says, blinking.  
  
I sigh and return my gaze to the lilac carpet. "Sorry."  
  
After a moment of silence she asks, "Are you going to tell your family?"  
  
I blink. I hadn't thought about Uncle and Jade. How *could* I tell them? It would be so. ..awkward, like when Viper and I hugged. And what would they say? No, I couldn't tell them. On the other hand, how could I *not* tell them? They were my family, after all. They would know that something was not right, and keeping this secret would kill me anyway. At this point I was stuck.  
  
"I never occurred to me," I finally answer. "I don't know how I will tell them."  
  
"Hey there, baby-face," she says, patting my shoulder, "leave it to me."  
  
I look up at her in alarm. Leave it to her? What did *that* mean? But all she does is wink at me.  
  
And I can't help but grin. She has that way...I can't describe it, but I know it is there.  
  
"Want more coffee?" she asks. I accept. Carrying the two empty mugs, she heads back to the kitchen.  
  
I stretch my arms and yawn, realising just how tired I was. My bones hurt, too. Probably from walking all day. Since she wasn't in the room, I decide that she wouldn't mind if I rest my eyes for a few minutes. So I let myself drop on the coach and relax. I would only lay there until she came back. I keep my ears opened for the sound of her footsteps, but I don't hear anything, so...  
  
...so I relax a little too well.  
  
***  
  
I open my eyes, feeling little refreshed. In fact, I feel almost sick. My throat is sore and my head is pounding. My eyes dart around the high ceiling, and for a minute I can't remember where I am. Then everything starts flooding back to me -- the pain and everything -- and I realise that I had been sleeping in *Viper's* home. I sit up and pull off the red fleece blanket that Viper must have covered me with. Seeing that I was still wearing my ordinary blue sweater and khakis, I check my pockets. I pull out my wallet and count my money and credit cards.  
  
"I'm legit!" I hear an exasperated cry. I look up and see Viper, dressed in a pink shirt and a tight black skirt, walking over to me from the huge, wall-sized window. "Do I have to spell it for you again?"  
  
"Just checking," I grin, rubbing the back of my head. I think I am blushing, too.  
  
I roll my shoulders uncomfortably. The ache has developed since last night...er...this morning, rather. Noticing this, Viper comes up behind me and begins to rub my shoulders. I automatically jump in my seat, but she holds me down. She has a very strong grip, but it feels good too. And my saying that worries me.  
  
"Why are you so tense?" she asks me.  
  
"Wouldn't you be?!" I shot back.  
  
I can just picture her rolling her eyes. "It's just a massage. Get over it."  
  
To me, it is hardly just a massage. It is Viper, a glamorous super thief (I'm sorry, *ex*-super thief), pressing down on *my* shoulders. I, Jackie Chan, am the lucky or unlucky guy to be...touched...by the exotic Viper. It makes me jittery, but it is also soothing. Scary. *That's* why I can't get over it. But I was never going to tell *her* that.  
  
She continues this for about ten minutes, and I can feel myself melting in her hands, though I try to act as reluctant as possible. But I have a feeling it is not working too well, so I decide to make conversation.  
  
"Why did you become a thief?" I am rather surprised I asked her this, and I think she is too. Maybe even a bit taken aback. But she tells me nonetheless.  
  
"Thrills, I guess," she answers casually. "It was literally a game of cops and robbers."  
  
"Oh."  
  
We don't say anything for a few moments, and then I open my mouth and ask another question. Another dumb question.  
  
"Who did you lose?"  
  
Again I think she is taken aback. And yet she still answers me, "Plenty of people. My parents. Friends.... Is this your first loss?"  
  
"No," I say quietly. "But it doesn't lessen the pain, either."  
  
"I know," she says, sighing. "It does go away, though. Give it time."  
  
I nod my head, sighing. Time. The magic healer. Right. Maybe I should see if the Horse Talisman would heal me more quickly.  
  
"I e-mailed Jade," she says after a few minutes of silence. "She's really sorry to hear what happened. She told your Uncle what happened, they want to come to New York."  
  
"You told them?!" I exclaim. But I still sit there, and she still massages me. To be honest, I am actually grateful for what she is doing. I wouldn't be able to tell Jade and Uncle, and I couldn't very well keep this kind of secret. Her telling them was a perfect arrangement.  
  
Not that I would tell *her* that.  
  
"Hey, I *told* you I would take care of it," she reminds me. Oh. Right. I forgot.  
  
I just sigh. Then I say, "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on your coach like that. I hadn't realised I was so tired."  
  
"Well, the sleeping pills I slipped into your coffee might have had something to do with that."  
  
"WHAT?!" I stand up and turn to face her. I imagine I am wearing a face of shock and anger. Note to self: Never trust a thief. Especially an ex- thief.  
  
But she waves her hands before her, signaling for me to calm down. "I was just kidding! Jeez, can't you take a joke?"  
  
I sigh, relaxing, and I drop back on the couch. Viper plops down next to me. "Actually, no."  
  
She raises an eyebrow. "I noticed."  
  
I sigh again, and I set my hands beneath my head. I need a plan. I suppose I could just go back to the hotel. I would stay in New York until the funeral was over. There was no reason for Uncle and Jade to come out, though knowing them, I wouldn't be surprised if they are on the morning flight right now. I look at the digital clock on the television -- eleven- thirty. I really hope they aren't coming.  
  
The biggest problem is that I do not want to leave Viper. Not just because I don't want to be alone, but I have actually grown comfortable here. In her home. With her sitting next to me. Frightening as it may be, it is also very true. I think I am starting to *like* Viper!  
  
"You know, you can stay here as long as you want," she offers me, as if reading my thoughts. How does she *do* that?!  
  
"Do you mind if I do?" I ask her. Then I say immediately, "I mean, just until after the funeral, of course."  
  
She nods knowingly. "Of course."  
  
Then I cough. I guess my throat really is sore. I must have caught a cold or something last night; wandering the streets of Manhattan in the winter without a coat can get you sick. Viper goes to the kitchen again and brings back tea and thermometer.  
  
"I don't have a fever," I start to say, but she pops the thermometer in my mouth anyway.  
  
"Yeah, well, we'll see," she says, flopping back on the couch. A few minutes pass, and finally she takes out the thermometer and reads it.  
  
"You know, I can read it myself," I tell her, with a hint of irritation in my tone.  
  
"Hundred two degrees," she reads, putting the thermometer back in the case. "Not too bad. Still, I guess you won't be swinging from rooftops anytime soon. At least not without a jacket."  
  
I roll my eyes.  
  
"If you want," she says, standing up, "you can take the guestroom. The couch isn't the most comfortable place."  
  
I had figured that out -- my back and shoulders are still sore, although that massage did help a lot. So she leads me to her guestroom, and I flop on the huge, queen-sized bed. By the elegance of the room, I guessed she must have had some pretty grand guests. But then, her entire apartment is like that.  
  
Viper is starting to leave, but I stop her. "Wait!" She turns around. Good. I don't want to be alone. "Stay? Please?"  
  
She looks at me, and I can see the lines of concern on her face. But she agrees to stay anyway, so she pulls up a chair by the bed. I roll over, my back facing her, and I fall asleep with the comfort of knowing that she was there watching me.  
  
What happens next is really strange. Though the memory is hazy, I recall dreaming. I had someone close by me. We had known each other for a while. We kiss. And I never wanted to let go. There was more, but the rest is all trapped in the mist of my subconscious. I am sure this dream was induced by my fever, because I have a similar idea when I wake up. But when it occurs to me, I shut it in the back of my mind, astonished that I would even *think* of doing that. I want...well...this is too embarrassing, I had better just say it and get it out of my system already. On the count of three. One.....two.......two and half.......um.....  
  
Okay, so I hesitated. Let me try again...one...two.....THREE!  
  
A kiss?  
  
And not just a friendly peck on the cheek either. I want a full, mouth-to- mouth kiss -- passionate, but innocent. And we would both hope that it would never end. The kind of kiss you would find in a trashy romance novel.  
  
Crazy, I know. Trust me, it is only the fever. I'm delirious.  
  
I blink a few times and jiggle my leg impatiently.  
  
Let's freeze reality for two seconds and suppose that I actually would...uh...*kiss*...Viper. Would I like it? More importantly, would *she* like it? Or would we both be frightened and never see each other ever again because of the awkward position?  
  
Stop it, Jackie. You're doing it again.  
  
But the minute I push this crazy thought out of my mind, in comes another thought: Casey. Next comes the deep pain that is scarred in my heat, and my eyes get watery. And the scare opens, revealing an endless array of loneliness. I have to get to Viper.  
  
Still groggy, I sit up, and as I do so a wet washcloth tumbles into my lap. Suffice to say, I am startled. My head swims as I stand up, and I have to lean on the nightstand to redeem my balance. Once I have done this, I stumble across the room. I push the door open and I spot Viper sitting on the couch, reading a book. I can't see what it is called, though. When she hears the creaking of the floor beneath my feet, she looks up at me, a little startled. As I lean against the wall, she walks over to me.  
  
"How do you feel?" she asks me, holding me up. She is about my height -- maybe even an inch taller, I'm not positive -- and I find myself looking directly into her eyes.  
  
"Fine," I tell her. In truth, my head feels like a balloon. I don't seem to mind, though.  
  
She feels my forehead and looks at me skeptically. "You're lying," she says, raising an eyebrow. I'm thinking that like it when she does that.  
  
"Okay, I am," I admit, grinning sheepishly, possibly even blushing. I'm telling you, my fever is getting worse!  
  
She turns me around and guides me back to the guestroom, holding my shoulders. When we reach the bed, she pulls over the bedspread, and I curl up with the covers wrapped around me tightly. It has suddenly gotten cold.  
  
"I'll be right back with something to eat. I'm guessing you must be starved."  
  
As she leaves, I ponder over her words, as if I were only just now comprehending them. Hmm...I haven't eaten since Sunday morning, that black and white cookie. I find it strange that I am still not hungry. I see the scar again in my mind's eye. It begins to slide open, slowly, carefully...  
  
Viper. I have to find Viper. With this one thought echoing in my groggy mind, I crawl out of the bed, only to fall flat on my stomach with a loud thud. Viper. I start to get up, but my head is so dizzy. I look around and see that the room is spinning. The scar opens wider...  
  
"NO!" I scream. The tears are flowing freely now. "NO! NO!"  
  
I try to resist. But finally I succumb to the pain.  
  
Now, this is the part where everything grows foggy. The next thing I remember is Viper kneeling in front of me, shaking me, trying to calm me down. When I regain my senses, I blink at her, thoroughly confused. I stare into her face, and she looks like she's about to cry, too. Before I can say anything -- not that I knew *what* to say -- she pulls me into a tight hug. Weak as I may be, I strap my arms around her neck. I lean on her, my face against her chest, and rocks me back and forth, as if comforting a small child.  
  
My breathing gets slower and my memories are a blur. Her touch is so soothing that I think I fall half asleep. Yes, I know I do because I have a dream. It was very strange, though not as strange as my previous dream. I am with Casey. She is going away...far away. I would not be able to see her. I ask her when she would come back, and she says she doesn't know. I don't want to let go, but I do.  
  
"Casey's...well...she's passed."  
  
It is freezing. I shiver.  
  
Viper's grip grows tighter.  
  
I start to blink, waking up, though at first I do not realise I had been half asleep. I do not seem to realise anything. My mind is numb. Moaning softly, I shut my eyes again. I hope she doesn't let me go, because I can't hold on.  
  
I vaguely remember her half-carrying me to the bed. I go back to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.  
  
***  
  
Hours later I wake up. I roll over on my back and I turn my head in the direction of the door. Instead I see Viper sitting in a chair by the bed. There are lines under her eyes and her face is haggard and sleepless. She was about to nod off when she noticed I was awake, and she smiles at me reassuringly. I feel so guilty.  
  
"Feel any better?" she asks me.  
  
I nod, not wanting to speak. I wasn't lying this time, though. I really do feel a little better. That only adds to the guilt. I cannot believe she stayed up all this time -- however long it was -- just for me. Although I am very grateful, I am also angry. This is the last thing I ever want to put her through. Note to self: Always trust a thief. Especially an ex-thief.  
  
Finally I say to her, "Why...why don't you get some sleep, okay? You look tired." That was and understatement; she looks as if she hasn't slept in days.  
  
She shakes her head. "I'm all right. You should just work on getting better."  
  
"Look, I can tell you are exhausted. Don't lose sleep over me."  
  
She raises her eyebrow. "And leave you alone after what happened last time? I don't think so."  
  
I sigh. There was no use in arguing with her. So I have another idea, and I'm a little surprised that I'm actually willing to go through with it. I roll over on the other side of the bed (thankfully, I am no longer dizzy). She looks at me curiously, so I pat the side I was on before.  
  
"If you don't want to leave me alone, then sleep here," I tell her, although I know she understood at my first indication.  
  
She avoids my eyes. She considers it, and then shuts her eyes and sighs tiredly. "Fine, whatever." She eases herself onto the bed, and pretty soon she falls asleep.  
  
I can't help but watch her. I am relieved to see that her face is more relaxed. So it is true. I think I really *do* love her. For some reason, it isn't as bewildering as it was before...in fact, it is quite comforting. I don't think it's delirium this time, though, because I think my fever has dropped at least somewhat. This is the first time I notice -- I mean *really* notice -- how beautiful she looks. I think about kissing her again...  
  
Right. Like that will happen anytime soon. Like you would *ever* do that. Dream on, Jackie. Dream on.  
  
You know what? Sometimes, I really hate my conscience. It always seems to be right.  
  
I watch her for a few hours it seems, and I wish for it not to end. But it does. She is starting to stir; so I turn my back towards her shyly. When she wakes up, she looks over my shoulder; I pretend to be sleeping. I hear her sigh...then she strokes her hand on the side of my face once. Her warm touch tickles, and I can't help but grin slightly. Immediately she pulls back. I sit and look at her. She is blushing, and I start to as well.  
  
"I was...uh...checking your fever," she says, avoiding my eyes.  
  
I try to suppress a grin. "I hope you weren't going to make a grab for my wallet," I tease her.  
  
She looks at me deadpan. "You don't have all that much money anyway."  
  
I stared at her, puzzled. "Wha--you *were* going to--?" But I see her grin slightly as she gets up. "Oh, that is *real* funny," I retort.  
  
I follow her out into the living room. To my surprise I see my small duffle bag sitting by the couch. She grins as I blink in perplexity.  
  
"How did my luggage get here?" I ask her finally.  
  
"Don't look so surprised," she tells me. "I'm a thief, remember?"  
  
"We really need to work on our communication skills."  
  
Soon I was in the shower. When I finish, I slip on clean clothes and we both have chicken soup. I wanted to cook it; I figured it was the least I could do after putting Viper through all that trouble, but she said it was no problem. But I think she only said that because the soup was not all that great. Now, I realise I am not a great cook, but I thought chicken soup would be easy enough.  
  
***  
  
I stay for a two days. The first day was the funeral. It is too painful to recall, so naturally I won't go into detail. Let's just say I cried a lot, especially at the services. But Viper had been there for me, which made it a lot easier. The next day we didn't do much of anything. Most of the day, Viper was reading her book, and I was just sitting next to her, dreading tomorrow morning. I had a ticket for a flight to San Francisco at ten-thirty. I was going to miss Viper a lot.  
  
At eight-thirty in the morning, I am ready to go. I stand by the door, reluctant to leave. Sighing inwardly, I turn to Viper, who was trying to mask her own dismay. If this had been a few months ago, I think I would have fallen for it.  
  
"I...I guess this is goodbye," I stammer, looking away from her.  
  
"I guess so," she says. Then she does something that I never in my wildest dreams expected.  
  
She kisses me.  
  
I feel my breath get caught in my throat.  
  
It was a soft kiss. A bit short, but sweet. Not in the least bit disappointing.  
  
She is always one step ahead of me.  
  
She pulls away slowly. I stare at her. That's all I can do.  
  
"Take care of yourself," she says.  
  
I nod, still staring. Then I have a brilliant idea. The problem was getting it out. "Uh...Viper?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Well, uh...I was wondering...are you...could...can I offer you..."  
  
"Yes?" she asks again, her eyebrow popping up.  
  
"Dinner?" I blurt out.  
  
She breaks out into a semi-surprised smile. "Hmm...dinner. I'll see, next time I'm in San Francisco."  
  
I grin, too. "Great! I'll see you soon, I hope."  
  
She nods. "Soon."  
  
"Well...bye-bye." I back my way out of her apartment, and shut the door behind, heaving a tired sigh. Whoa. Did that REALLY just happen? I must be dreaming. Shaking my head, I grip my suitcase firmly and start down the long corridor.  
  
-----  
  
I'm gonna dedicate this to my dad... miss you. 


End file.
